


Familiarity

by willowsandwonders



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Shapeshifter!Michael, Wizard!Gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowsandwonders/pseuds/willowsandwonders
Summary: Michael's plan coming to the capital is simple: learn magic, and try avoid any asshole wizard that thinks that Geminus are only meant to be familiars. It seems reasonable to him, at least.But fate has other ideas, and he finds himself living in a wizard’s house pretending to be a normal, super not wizard-hating cat. It’s not as bad as he thought it might be, and it turns out that messing with Gavin is fun as hell.It works. Or at least, it does until he can’t keep up the lie anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Sorry if this pops up in the tag again or you get a notification that it updated--I just needed to change the summary so it wasn't as long!

It starts with Michael needing a place to stay. His cat form makes it easy to slip into little nooks and crannies for the night, but it’s getting pretty annoying to be woken up to someone trying to shoo him away with a broom. People in the capital are rude as fuck, apparently.

He could do with a solid meal and a warm bath, too. He came to the capital to learn how to grab hold of the magic he can feel swirling in the air around him, but all he’s found is shit luck. The first wizard he talked to realized what he was a little too quickly--tried to start the rites to bind Michael as a familiar like they were doing him some kind of _favor._

Maybe he can’t conjure a fireball in his hand, but he can still punch a motherfucker in the face as good as anyone.

And now he’s too paranoid that word has spread about a new Geminus in town. He’s been in his cat form almost exclusively for the past week and it’s throwing him off. Being a Geminus is all about balance between the two forms. Already his human form is itching under his skin, begging for him to change so his other form can rest.

So he’s decided today he’s going to find somewhere to stay, even if it kills him. He’ll slip between the bars of a fucking dungeon if that’s what it takes. That’s as far as he gets into his plan before he shifts back into a human in an isolated back alley, sighing in relief as he finally stretches out this form. Gods _above_ does it feel good. Having thumbs again is great, and so is the downgrade in his sense of smell, if only so the garbage littering the alley doesn’t seem as rank.

It’s not until a couple hours of wandering the city later that he remembers all the other reasons he wasn’t using this form. For starters, he needs more food to keep himself going, and as a human it’s going to be harder to get away with stealing shit. No one calls the city guard on a cat, after all. But while his human form can retain the clothes he wears, loose change has been a no-go so far. But maybe if someone shows him how to use magic he can figure all that out. He could be a kickass thief that way, just pick something up then shift to a cat and make off with it--

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost walks straight into a street vendor’s stall, spinning away at the last minute just to crash right into someone else. There’s a squawk and an elbow that catches him right in the face.

“You made me drop all my books!” The man cries, sounding very offended. Michael hates him a little bit already, even though the whole thing is his fault. Maybe it's how punchable his face looks. But then he picks up one of the books off the ground and the title sends a spike of dread through him. _Application of the Arcane Arts._ He startles, accidentally locking eyes with the stranger and freezing when he sees the slightly unnatural green light in his eyes. _He’s a fucking wizard._

Michael shoves the book into the man’s chest and darts away, trying to catch his breath. _There’s no way he had time to read your magic,_ he tries to reassure himself. _And a wizard isn’t going to jump you in the middle of the street, calm the fuck down._

But it’s shaken him up a bit--first he just feels uneasy, but that’s quickly replaced by a hot wash of anger. He is  _tired_ of hiding from wizards in the back alleyways, living in the shadows. He’s here to learn about magic, and to hell with the douchebags who think he’s only good for being a familiar. He’ll show them.

Before he can think the plan through he’s shifting into a cat, shrugging off the discomfort of changing back so soon and making his way to the edges of the crowd, following the green-eyed wizard through the streets.

\---

The wizard lives in a small house on the fringes of the capital. By the time they reach it, the sun is high in the sky and Michael’s fucking _exhausted._ It’s almost worth it, though, to watch the wizard drop all his books again while trying to juggle them to get the door open. And he’ll begrudgingly give him some points for living in a normal house instead of those drafty ass towers wizards seem to love.

It’s laughably easy to scale the low fence into the garden. He pokes around back there a bit, examines all of the wizard’s plants, even knocks over a pot of rosemary just out of spite. When that proves to be real fucking cathartic, a plan starts to fall into place. He can mooch off this wizard a bit, convince him he’s a normal cat and get some food out of him, maybe even pick up some of his spells if he can. If someone as dumb as this guy can do it, then it can’t be _that_ hard. And along the way, he can do what annoying cats do and knock over his shit, maybe mess with him a bit. It seems fair after all the shit wizards have put him through.

He spends the afternoon in the wizard’s garden daydreaming about all the chaos he’s about to cause. He sprawls out in a nice sunny patch, almost relaxing enough to ignore the soreness of this form. At one point the second floor window gets flung open and a cloud of red smoke pours out of it. Michael figures that’s normal enough for wizards and goes back to napping.

\---

Once night falls, he explores the house. He has to take a few minutes outside to crouch in the bushes in his human form, breathing heavy and trying to work the soreness out of his limbs. Then he’s sliding open the window, shifting back into a cat and hopping through onto the kitchen counter.

The downstairs is one room, but the wizard’s made it work. There’s a counter and some cupboards by the window, and even more plants in the windowsill in tiny pots. He’s about to knock one to the floor, but then he smells that it’s catnip and quickly moves on. There’s a fireplace on the far wall, a low couch, and a few cushions on the floor that he files away as a place to sleep later. But no magic books, or the wizard himself. So Michael pads upstairs, anxiously listening for any sign that the wizard might be awake.

The upper level is split in half by a tattered purple curtain. He bats at the singed bottom of it. Apparently this fucking idiot doesn’t know how keep his fire to himself. This half of the room is pretty empty, just a workbench underneath the window the wizard threw open earlier. In the moonlight he can see some smudged chalk lines on the floor, the arcanic symbols shaky and wiped away in some spots. Maybe this guy won’t be the best for Michael to watch practice magic, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about him being some all-powerful threat.

The idiot wizard in question is asleep on the other side of the curtain, snoring softly on a dragon’s hoard of blankets. There’s an old book laying open on the floor a few inches away from his hand. In fact, there’s books fucking _everywhere._ Crammed onto a shitty wooden bookshelf, in stacks lining the wall, and even a few on top of the blankets. Michael’s not brave enough to shift and flip through any of them right now, but maybe once the wizard gets used to having a cat around he’ll leave Michael alone in the house. Then he can have a better look around.

Thinking about that sends a thrill of nerves through him. He really fucking did this, didn’t he? Michael could still back out if he really wanted to, but playing housecat for a wizard is better than living how he has been for the past week.

He slinks back downstairs and curls up on a cushion in the corner, close enough to the door that he can make a break for it if everything goes tit’s up. _This might be a horrible idea,_ he can’t help but think, _and probably the only reason I’m going through with it is because I’m delirious from lack of food._ But delirious or not, the cushion is _really_ fucking comfortable compared to cobblestones, and before he can berate himself further he’s sinking into a fitful sleep.

\---

The stairs creak sometime in the early morning and Michael’s awake in an instant. He presses himself further into the corner on instinct, his first waking thought somewhere between _holy shit_ and wondering whether his brown fur is close enough in color to the wall to blend in. He gets his answer when the wizard walks right past him, sleepily rubbing his eyes as he goes to light the fire and hang a pot over it. At first Michael’s not sure if it’s some kind of magic thing, then feels like a moron when he sees the wizard is just brewing tea.

He waits until the wizard has settled onto the couch with a mug of tea to strike. He steps out of the shadows with a meow, trying to look as sad and fluffy as possible. The wizard jumps in his seat, splashing tea all over himself before leaping to his feet.

He makes a spluttering attempt at words, one hand over his heart like Michael has just given him the fright of his life. So he can add “coward” to this man’s list of negative qualities. But he still steels himself, staring up at the wizard and meowing again.

“And where did you come from?” The wizard all but coos, apparently over his shock as quickly as it came. He leans down, hands on his knees, and it takes a lot of willpower not to swipe at the giant fucking nose crowding into his line of sight.

A hand is suddenly scratching behind his ears and his resolve crumbles. He shrinks away and swats at the hand, feeling more than a little satisfied when the wizard yelps and draws back.

And thus begins an uneasy alliance. The wizard mutters something about how he needs to stop leaving his windows open and doesn’t even bother to read Michael for magic. Which is _stupid,_ but Michael’s not complaining. He just gives him some food and a quick bath (which he may never forgive the wizard for), and proceeds about his life like random cats showing up in his house is a perfectly normal occurrence.

The longer Michael lives with him, though, the more he realizes a cat really _doesn’t_ rank as strange compared to the rest of the shit he gets into. There’s a spell that fills the house with a thick green fog, then a botched potion that makes all the wizard’s sentences come out of his mouth backwards for a few hours. Though to be fair, he garbles out enough gibberish as it that it’s not too different from usual.

The best part has to be fucking with the wizard, though. He quickly learns that the man makes a range of squawking and shouting noises when properly motivated, and it’s fucking _hilarious._ Michael starts small, swatting books off the wizard’s workbench and then watching smugly on as he rambles off some tangent about how he’s the _worst._ It’s also easy to break his concentration when he’s preparing a spell--all it takes is a quick lap of running around the room before the wizard is turning away from his books to berate him for being _a bloody nuisance._ And yet the wizard never throws him to the streets, and can never manage to stay mad at him for more than a few hours.

The wizard’s name for Michael changes on a day-to-day, or often chaos-to-calm basis. When Michael’s been restraining himself and acting a bit less like a hellion, the wizard mostly coos and gives him weird little nicknames like Whisker-Weisker and Little Waggle. Michael has no idea if any of that means something in some strange foreign language, but he’s pretty sure the wizard doesn’t even have the capacity for _one_ language, let only two. When he’s angry the wizard tries to ignore him, but by the end of the day he’s back to the weird names and setting out a bowl of cooked fish for him.

Michael does have mercy on him, though. On days he doesn’t feel like fucking with the wizard, Michael slips out of the house. Sometimes he just fucks around in the garden, other days when the wizard has his nose buried in books he’ll shift and walk around the streets, getting an idea of the area in case he needs to make a break for it. His little excursions are good, but every time it’s just that little bit harder to shift back into his cat form. It’s a problem he can’t ignore forever--his balance is so far off that it’s a miracle he can even manage to shift at all.

Sometimes he gets cranky at night after entire days spent in his cat form, sore all over and exhausted to the bone. On some of those nights the wizard will notice that he’s being still and oddly non-destructive. And _sometimes,_ though Michael would never admit it, he’ll let the wizard scratch behind his ears and rub lightly at all the little hurts down his spine. But he’d sooner fucking die than say that he purred, ever, at any point.

\---

He can’t keep this life up forever. The shifting imbalance is a big fucking problem, even if he tries to pretend that he’s got it under control. And if the wizard gets bored one day and tries to read his magic, he’ll know in an instant that Michael is a Geminus. There’s so much magic already swirling in the air around the house that he might not bother checking, but Michael still stiffens every time he notices the wizard staring at him for a bit too long.

What he _should_ do is just leave. Maybe write a note explaining what happened to be polite, then catch a ride back to the backwater shithole he’d left. They’d all poke fun at him for coming back with his tail tucked between his legs, for trying to leave them in the dust for _magic_ of all things. But he’s sure they’d get over it soon enough. His life there wasn’t that bad, anyway. Pretty peaceful. Yet he can’t bring himself to go back.

For lack of any better direction, Michael starts taking more risks. The wizard doesn’t trust him to be around while he’s practicing magic anymore after an incident where Michael’s meddling almost set the house on fire. So at night he starts shifting into a human and tries to leaf through the books the wizard leaves downstairs. The words are in some ancient, magical language. The letters dance frantically across the pages of the first book he cracks open. But if he _really_ concentrates and stares deep into the pages, they start to swirl closer to symbols he recognizes, _almost_ legible before they dissipate again like smoke.

He’s not getting anywhere studying on his own. _Fuck this._ Annoyed, he snaps the book shut and drops it back on the table. Then freezes, dread pooling in his stomach, because _holy shit_ those sounds sounded like thunderclaps in the silent house.

There’s footsteps on the stairs. Michael’s first instinct is to shift, play it off as the dumb cat fucking around at night. Normally the process is as easy as breathing. But--

He can’t do it.

He can’t shift. He tries again, desperately, and doubles over as the magic he tries to pull from within himself _burns._ His body has finally given up on him pushing himself to the limit.

The footsteps stop. When Michael finally looks up, blinking the tears from his eyes, he sees the wizard staring down at him. Eyes blazing with magical green light and lightning crackling around his hands, he looks _nothing_ like the idiot who let some random street cat live in his house. The wizard opens his mouth to speak, and Michael braces himself for a spell to spill through his lips that’s going to blast him into ash.

He waits. No pain comes. Instead--

“Who the hell are you?!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)

The wizard’s question hangs heavy in the air. Michael tries to answer but the words are all gummed up in his throat. No fucking way this guy hasn’t read his magic now. He knows Michael’s a Geminus and he needs to get _out._

He leaps to his feet, mind a haze of panic as he stumbles past the wizard. A ball of lightning whizzes past his head and impacts against the plants on the windowsill, shattering all the pots. He flinches and tries to shift again, make himself a smaller target and get the fuck _away._

But the second he tries it’s even worse than before, pain flooding his body as the room spins around him once, twice, and then crashes into darkness.

\---

He floats somewhere between sleep and consciousness for a while--stirring at noises around him or light burning against his eyelids only to slip back under again. He feels weighed down, even shifting where he lays feels like trying to drag piles of bricks. When he’s drifted further up towards wakefulness he has the presence of mind to realize he’s comfortable, laying on something soft with a blanket tucked over his shoulders.

Or at least, he’s comfortable until he feels something on his arm. At first it’s barely anything, and he’s _so_ close to falling asleep again when the strange feeling sharpens into a bright spot of pain. He yelps, eyes flying open before he can process what’s happening.

The wizard is leaning over him, an outstretched hand with some little forks of lightning flickering away from his fingers. Michael’s first coherent thought is, _that little fucker shocked me!_ His brain still feels too tired to turn that into words coming out of his mouth, though, so he settles on a glare.

The other man at least bothers to look embarrassed, which is a far cry from how murderous he looked last...Michael’s not actually sure how long it’s been. He props himself up on his elbows, trying to ignore how his body aches at the motion, and looks around. He’s on the couch on the first floor, the wizard sitting on one of the cushions that he’s perched on the edge of the table. The mess the wizard made of the flowerpots has been cleaned up and only dim light is shining through the window. It’s either dawn or another day, and Michael’s not sure which answer he prefers.

The wizard taps him on the shoulder, thankfully no lightning this time. Michael begrudgingly turns to look at him, still kind of pissed about the shocking him awake thing.

“You never answered my question. Who are you? And why are you in my house?” He doesn’t sound as righteously pissed as he did when he first saw Michael in his human form, so he figures he has a bit more room to be ornery instead of scared shitless.

“Don’t play dumb.” He grimaces when his voice comes out weak and scratchy and takes a second to clear his throat. He hasn’t exactly done much talking since living with the wizard. “We both know you’ve read my magic already. You know exactly what I am.”

“Then I know you’re a familiar,” the wizard says and the hot wash of anger that hits Michael is enough to sit up in a rush. The wizard flinches just a fraction, but keeps going. “My guess is that you’re running away from a bad wizard, gods know there’s plenty of those in this city.” He extends a hand. “My name is Gavin, and I can help you get away from whatever wizard--”

“I’m _not_ a familiar,” Michael spits. He barely has time to process that he’s finally learned the wizard’s name. Michael’s a little more preoccupied trying to drill it through _Gavin’s_ thick skull that being a Geminus and being a familiar are worlds apart.

All Gavin does in response is cock his head, looking at Michael in a way he quickly decides he does _not_ like.

“A thief, then?” The lightning is back around his hands, and Michael _really_ needs to ask him where he picked that party trick up, because up till now he’d only seen him clumsily trying to balance globs of fire. “I’m sure some of my books would be very profitable for you if you placed them in the right hands. Or very _dangerous.”_

Michael knows he’s supposed to be intimidated right now, but he can’t help it. He snorts, drawing a very confused look from Gavin. Sure, sure, he could smite him into oblivion, but Michael had almost let himself forget that _this_ is the guy who accidentally cursed himself to only be able to talk backwards for a day, or whose spells usually end in something catching on fire. So yeah, he doesn’t buy the mysterious, deadly wizard act for a _second._

“You really haven’t figured it out yet, huh?”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” The wizard snaps, lightning climbing up towards his elbows. Michael should get to the point, but this is a fun new way of winding Gavin up and he doesn’t want to waste it.

“I’m a Geminus.” Gavin nods, still looking apprehensive. “Which means I have two forms.” Another nod. “But that _doesn’t_ mean I’m someone’s familiar,” he tacks on because he really doesn’t think Gavin gets that part yet.

“What’s your point?” He finally snaps. Michael wants to build up the reveal more, but exhaustion’s tugging at his brain again.

“Remember that cat you’ve been letting stay at your house?” At first Gavin just kind of looks at him, but Michael grins as he can _see_ the implication of those words start to sink in.

The exact second it hits him is fucking _glorious._ Michael wishes he could freeze time just to etch every shocked detail of Gavin’s face into his memory.

First there’s a shrill squawking noise that Michael’s more than familiar with by now, followed by Gavin shouting, “Oh, gods! Gods _above_ how did I not _realize?”_

Michael can’t stop laughing even if it’s making every muscle in his chest burn. This is probably the worst fucking way Gavin could have found out, but at least it’s _funny._ He’s pretty sure there’s tears in his eyes and this could still end horribly, but gods does that look on Gavin’s face make it worth it.  

“You really were a terrible cat,” Gavin finally says. “An absolute _devil.”_

“You think that was bad?” Michael asks with a grin after catching his breath. “Just wait till you see what I can do when I have _thumbs.”_

\---

For all Michael’s laughter and threats, he passes out pretty quickly after that. He falls into a pattern of waking up for small snatches of the day, eating whatever the wizard leaves for him on the table and falling back asleep. It should bother him how much time he’s losing, but he’s mostly just _relieved_ to be getting somewhere close to a balance between his two forms. He hadn’t realized how bent out of shape he’d gotten.

When he’s awake for longer than a few minutes, he and Gavin talk. It’s kind of strange to finally be talking _to_ the wizard, for a long time it was just him talking at Michael while he fucked around.

“I realized I don’t actually know your name?” Gavin turns it into a question at the end, as if Michael would take that statement and let Gavin keep making up names for him. It was funny, sure, but you can only get called garbled, made-up words for so long.

“Michael.”

“Pleasure to meet you then, Michael.” The wizard grins, and holds out a hand. Something about the over-eager look in his eyes makes Michael pause.

“I’m not shaking your hand.”

“Why not?” Gavin whines, but Michael knows what’s going on here.

“Because you’re gonna shock me again! I can sense magic too, you know.” Gavin deflates, a little spark dancing over the palm of his hand before the magic energy disperses.

“You’re such a piece of shit,” Michael continues with a grin as if he wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if _he_ was the one with crazy lightning powers. Speaking of, “What’s with the lightning anyway? I never saw you use it before.”

“Ah.” Gavin twists his hand, letting the magic run down it. “New trick. When I caught you downstairs the other night it just kind of happened. Felt more natural than fire, at any rate.”

“That normal for wizards?”

Gavin shrugs. “I think so? Different elements work better for everybody. But I won’t bore you with all the details.” He turns away from Michael, walking over the cabinets to start getting things together to make lunch.

Michael tries to find the words to say that he _wants_ to know all the boring details, learn how magic ticks. But the chance passes before he can manage it and he’s left staring at the magic books stacked up at the table until he falls back asleep.

\---

Time passes. He and Gavin fall into a new rhythm--Michael usually sleeps in his cat form downstairs for the sake of space. Then he shifts in the morning and does some chores since Gavin always fucking forgets to do things like water his plants in the garden or sweep dust off the front steps. And he’s gotta earn his keep, after all. He still fucks with Gavin when he can, but he’s toned it down a bit after learning that lulling Gavin into a false sense of security for a few days makes it that much funnier when he wakes up to find that Michael’s used his ritual chalk to draw dicks all over the floor.

(Neither of them mention that Michael begrudgingly sweeps it all up afterwards, and in turn Gavin will turn a blind eye when he catches Michael flipping through his magic books, brow furrowed in concentration.)

And yeah, the magic books are a bit of a fucking headache. He tries to piece together the dancing letters whenever he has a free moment. Every now and then a few words will slide into focus and he’ll get a fragment about summoning circles or the elements before it’s gone again. Gavin hasn’t said anything about his studying habit, but he’s stopped shooing Michael out of the room every time Michael perches on the windowsill in cat form to watch him practice magic.

Michael’s learning...something. It would probably be a lot fucking faster if he just _told_ Gavin what he was trying to do, but it almost feels like he’s missed his chance. Besides, Gavin seems to have _way_ too hard of a time understanding that Michael has magic too, just one that flows from the inside out instead of drawing it in from the world around him. It’s the same stuff, just going a different direction.

But Gavin always seems so _shocked_ when Michael reminds him he can feel the magic in the air, too, or when he points out a missing line in an enchanting circle Gavin’s drawing. But the _worst_ is how he seems to think that Michael’s magic is built to work with that of a wizard’s, nothing else. It’s the stupid fucking mindset that every wizard seems to have, even after Michael reminds him at every opportunity that they’re two sides of the same coin, not the other’s missing half.

It takes a couple rounds of shouting after Gavin keeps asking Michael if he wouldn’t be happier as his familiar, but Gavin finally starts to get it. Michael still shreds one of the cushions in his cat form that night as a reminder of how pissed he is, but to Gavin’s credit he drops the familiar issue.

After that, Gavin makes more of an effort to learn about Geminus stuff. He actually seems interested when Michael talks about what shifting feels like, or how the balancing act between his forms works. He seems endlessly fascinated by watching Michael shift, always blabbering about how he wishes he could slow down time to see what it _really_ looks like.

For once, Michael might’ve found a wizard that he doesn’t hate.

\---

He knows Gavin hangs around other wizards. Weird attracts weird, after all, and Gavin will head to the heart of the city for the night and come back with his pockets stuffed full of a magical herb he can’t figure out how to grow or with the traces of minor spells swirling around him. Michael doesn’t care--actually _appreciates_ that Gavin doesn’t bring it up much or force him to come along after he shares all the stories of wizards he’s met trying to force him into becoming a familiar.

But Gavin can’t keep his friends away from the house forever. One day a man with ink swirling up and down his arms flings open the door and yells, “Hey, shithead!” up the stairs. Michael had been minding his own business, napping in his cat form in a nice sun puddle. But the sudden intrusion makes him jump a foot in the air before he’s even fully realized he’s awake, darting upstairs to go get Gavin.

“Coming, Geoffrey!” Gavin sing-songs as Michael reaches the top step, relaxing a fraction once he realizes that this guy is a friend and not going to blast them both into next week. Michael meows, weaving around his legs and trying to trip Gavin as he goes down the stairs. Gavin just laughs and sends a clumsy wind spell his way, not enough to knock him back but enough of an annoyance that Michael still chases after him down the stairs, caught up enough in the chase that he almost forgets about the unfamiliar wizard downstairs.

The man’s made himself at home on the couch, an ancient leather-bound book held up so Gavin can see. Whatever it is must be important, because Gavin makes an excited sound and runs over to grab it. Michael stares up at the symbols along the spine as he pads over, the symbols reassembling into something that looks like _A Study of Lightning._

He’s pleased enough with himself at deciphering the title that he almost doesn’t notice the new wizard’s eyes on him. _Geoffrey,_ as Gavin called him. What a pretentious fucking name. Michael’s not stupid, but he’s worried that this guy will be. When he turns to get a proper look at him, he can see the man’s eyes glowing blue. The wizard frowns at whatever he sees, and Michael braces himself for some dumb fucking comment.

“You didn’t tell me you got a familiar, Gav.” Michael goes very still, forcing himself not to take the bait and get angry. He knows what their arrangement looks like, so he stays put on the floor and settles on giving the new wizard the nastiest look he can manage in this form.

“No, uh--just a cat.” Gavin’s a horrible liar, but Michael will give him points for trying. “Yeah and he, um, he bites. So probably leave him to his own devices, Geoff.” Michael hisses to add to the story, but Geoff just rolls his eyes.

“C’mon, Gavin. We both know he’s a Geminus and it’s obvious you two know each other. If you don’t know how to conduct the rites I can show you, it’s really not that hard--”

“He’s not my familiar,” Gavin butts in, voice strained. Michael sees him shoot a look at his swishing tail. He’s really not trying to be so touchy about this shit, but he’s been burned enough times that even _talking_ about getting bound as a familiar starts to piss him off.

He knew a Geminus once, her other form a bird. She was older than him and the only other Geminus in their village. She was like his big sister, until she got older and became the familiar of this crotchety old wizard who lived out in the forest. It was just what a Geminus _did,_ she’d told him. The job they were built for. She promised it wasn’t that bad. She served as his protector against the creatures of the forest and an extra pool of magic to draw from when he needed it. Nevermind that her dream was to become the best architect the kingdom had ever seen.

If a Geminus dies, the wizard just gets a new familiar. But when it’s the _wizard_ that storms out angry one night and gets ripped apart by a rabid wolf, well. The loyal familiar’s life force is coiled around his own. It’s a failsafe, a way to ensure their loyalty.

And you lose them both.

“Really?” Geoff’s saying, but Michael can barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. “Well, you’d better hurry before another wizard comes and snatches him up.” Michael sees red. It’s a joke, he knows it’s a _fucking_ joke, but he can’t hold himself back.

He shifts, crossing the room in two long strides. The table gets knocked to the side as he leans forward and fists his hands into the collar of Geoff’s shirt. The wizard seems too startled to even react properly, mouth hanging open a fraction.

“I do not _belong_ to _anybody,”_ Michael hisses, letting all his anger seep into the words. He can feel the furious energy coming out of him and he registers dimly that his hands feel _really_ warm where he’s holding Geoff by the collar. He stumbles back, the strange feeling fading away.

\---

Michael doesn’t see a lot of Geoff after that. It makes sense, Michael really did make a pretty fucking bad first impression. Mostly he just feels lucky that he didn’t get smited for almost starting a fight with Geoff. Gavin tells him that he’s an earth specialist, probably could’ve shaken the house down if he’d wanted.

“Do you hate him?” Gavin asks one night. Michael’s helping him clean up the upstairs after a particularly nasty storm spell overpowered the chalk circle meant to contain it. Gavin’s been getting better at the lightning stuff, even if messes like this are still common.

“Who, Geoff?” He takes a second to wipe splashes of water off of the cover of an enchanting book. He hasn’t mentioned it to Gavin, but reading the magical script has gotten easier and easier. “I never hated him. Just the shit he was saying about how I should be your familiar just because I’m a Geminus. I yelled at you about the same stuff and I stopped hating you way before that, so.”

“Aw, Michael!” Gavin coos, “You’re so nice now!” Michael rolls his eyes and snaps at his shoulder with the cloth he was using. Then he quickly dances back out of range of Gavin’s lightning because he can _see_ him gearing up to shock the shit out of him. He’s still learning a little thing called restraint with his new element and Michael’s gotten fried enough times to be wary.

“I take it back,” Michael says. “I hate Geoff for giving you that fancy lightning book. It’s just teaching you more ways to kill me.” Gavin doesn’t part with the book long enough for Michael to skim through it, but if Gavin’s trying to summon tiny thunderstorms inside of their _house_ he doesn’t like their odds.

“It’s pretty cool, ‘innit?” Gavin’s grinning a bit too wide for someone with lightning traveling up and down their arms. “I have you to thank for helping me figure out that lightning fit me better. Fire wasn’t really my thing, I guess.”

“Do you think it could be mine?” The words are out of his mouth before he can hold them back, and he immediately regrets it. But he can’t stop thinking back to when he grabbed Geoff, how his hands were unnaturally hot and he’d felt his magic moving around in a new, strange way.

Gavin’s giving him a weird look. Michael shakes himself before he can space out any further, getting back to cleaning before he can get asked any stupid questions.

That night, he finds some of Gavin’s old books on fire magic stacked up on the table.

\---

The seasons come and go until Michael realizes he’s been in the capital for over a year. Mostly he’s surprised that it hasn’t been longer. His life’s been pretty good here, even if it’s far from what he’d imagined when he was scraping together his savings to make it out here. Definitely not as peaceful as he thought studying magic could’ve been, but not half as lonely either.

Gavin’s an idiot, but he’s a good friend. Michael probably couldn’t have picked a better wizard to follow home from that market. He’s not a familiar, doesn’t have plans to become one any time soon, but he’s not going anywhere either. That matters. They never talk about it, but he thinks Gavin understands that too.

He closes the book he was studying from and snuffs out the candle. The magical language comes easy to him now, but the new challenge is deciphering the meaning in the endless paragraphs of rites and spellcasting. But Michael’s not one for giving up.

He looks down at his palm and grins as a tiny flame bursts to life, throwing light into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as a personal challenge to finish half of a story a week during a super busy time. I hope that you all liked it even if it probably reads a bit differently than my other stuff due to the time constraints! It went a completely different direction than what I'd initially planned. Feel free to ask any questions about the magic system of this world or anything else, I love magic systems even if I made up a lot of this one on the fly

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fantasy fact: wizards are their own home security systems.  
> (If you want to say hi, talk about the story, etc, you can do it in the comments or on my tumblr which is the same as my username on here! And I'll do my best to have the next part up within a week or maybe a week and some change--life's a busy thing.)


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